


Slow on the uptake

by Polyhexian



Series: Okay but what if they were ace tho [5]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Consent Issues, Established Relationship, Good ending timeline, M/M, POV Third Person, Post-Canon, Slavery mention, disposable class discussion, this is.... Very tender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyhexian/pseuds/Polyhexian
Summary: "Listen, I don't- I don't think you should talk about that to everyone," Rewind insisted, carefully.Tailgate blinked at him, "Why not?"
Relationships: Cyclonus/Tailgate (Transformers), background Chromedome/Rewind
Series: Okay but what if they were ace tho [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772830
Comments: 20
Kudos: 133





	Slow on the uptake

Tailgate leaned back in his seat, sipping his drink and puffing out his chest with as much pride as he could visibly muster. "Yup," he said, tilting his head down and looking up at his audience through his dim visor, "We have _officially_ done Conjunx rites."

Brainstorm whistled, sitting backwards in his chair and leaning on his elbows, "Congratulations! Did you two do a _proper_ Act of Intimacy or did y'all puddlefoot out and use the liberal hand holding interpretation like weenies?"

Tailgate kicked his pedes up onto the table while the other bar patrons, his friends, waited on baited breath, even as the rest of the Lost Light carried on around them, buzzing with good energy in the aftermath of learning they were in a fresh new universe to explore, "Oh, we did it _proper_ all right."

" _Nice_!" Swerve cheered, leaning in for a high five.

"Congratulations!" clapped Riptide.

"I can't believe he fit," Whirl whistled, crassly.

"Of course he fit," Tailgate rolled his optical display, waving his drink, "Listen, I am not going to tell any of you jerks about _my_ Conjunx's spike, but I _will_ tell you I have taken plenty bigger, and I was _not_ the mewling starfish on my ritus night you seem to think I was. So there."

Whirl whooped and clapped, "Ha! So much for the demure little inexperienced minibot, eh!" 

"I don't know _where_ you even got that idea," Tailgate scoffed, taking another sip of engex, "I worked in _waste disposal_ , I might not have gotten out enough to know what cold construction was but I'm obviously not inexperienced when it comes to _interface_." 

At that point, Tailgate's entire table turned their attention to the booth a few metres away when Rewind spat his drink across the table and began wheezing like he was dying. 

"Uh, what does that mean?" Nautica asked, turning back to Tailgate.

Tailgate flickered his visor in a confused frown and tilted his head, "I mean-"

"No, no, no no, hang on, time out-" Rewind yelled, scrambling out of his seat towards Tailgate's table, "Oh my god, oh my god, Domey-"

"On it," Chromedome answered, standing up and plucking a startled Tailgate right out of his seat.

"Wh-" 

"We gotta go right now, sorry, put his thing on my tab Swerve, I'll bring the glass back, but we gotta go right now immediately," Rewind babbled as he and his Conjunx backed out of the bar, Tailgate held aloft and appearing unfathomably confused. The door shut. 

"Uh…" said Brainstorm, "Should we go after him?" 

"Uhhhh," Whirl responded, still leaning precariously back in his chair, "It's probably fine. That's probably normal. That's probably a minibot thing."

"I'm literally right here," Swerve deadpanned, and was ignored.

* * *

"Okay, honestly, I love being carried but I'd still really like to know what the heck is going on," Tailgate fretted. Chromedome set him down and Rewind pulled him off to the side in the empty hallway.

"Listen, I don't- I don't think you should talk about that to everyone," Rewind insisted, carefully.

Tailgate blinked at him, "Why not?" 

"Because its-" Rewind paused, huffed a sigh and looked back at Chromedome, who quickly nodded and then shuffled backward and out of earshot. Rewind dropped his voice to a low volume, quiet enough not to echo in the hall, "It wasn't _right_ , Tailgate, and I don't know if you've figured that out yet." 

Tailgate stared at him. "I don't understand." 

"Right, right, okay, see," Rewind clasped his hands together, "We're both golden age, right? Disposable class."

"Yeah."

"Tailgate," Rewind said, glancing behind him to make sure the hallway was still empty, "Were you talking about interfacing with your _owner_?"

Tailgate suddenly paused, uncertainly, "Should I… not be talking about that?" 

"It- well, what I mean is," Rewind put his hands on both of Tailgate's shoulders in earnest, "What I _mean_ is, you know, you know what consent is, right? Somebody's explained that to you by now."

"I know what consent is. He never _forced_ me, it was just like- I mean, everyone did it."

"That's my _point_ , Tailgate, what I mean is- if you didn't have the option to say no then you couldn't say _yes_ either- listen, you know Dominus was- used to be- we never did anything until I was emancipated at least. Do you understand?"

"Uh…" Tailgate stared at him, as if he didn't understand what he was talking about at all, "I guess." 

"I just… I don't think you should brag about it unless you've really… thought about whether you really want people to know about that or not." 

"I'm not embarrassed, though!" Tailgate insisted, "I was good at it!" 

"But did you _like_ it?" 

"I liked being good at it!" 

"That is _not_ the same thing," Rewind tightened his grip on Tailgate's shoulders as Spoke and Lockstock rounded the far corner and waited until they passed by. 

"Did I upset _you_?" Tailgate fielded, when the hallway was empty but the two of them and Chromedome again. 

Rewind sighed. "No. Yes. Don't feel bad. I just want- _you_ to think about… that. Before you brag about it." 

Tailgate blinked his visor, slowly, processing. "Okay." 

"Okay? Okay!" Rewind brightened, clapping him in the shoulders, "Okay, good! Do you wanna go back in now?" 

"...I think I'm actually gonna go talk to Cyclonus," Tailgate said, stepping back, "Thanks, though, for- looking out for me, I think?" 

"Trying to," Rewind answered, offering a little wave as Tailgate turned and left, processor spinning.

* * *

The light was off when Tailgate opened the door to his habsuite, his Conjunx in recharge on his back in berth. He lingered by the door frame for a moment after it had shut, debating on if he should wake him- the entire reason he had been out without him in the first place was to let Cyclonus get some early recharge after a day on crew rotation.

"Are you alright?" Cyclonus asked, without stirring. Tailgate wasn't particularly surprised- Cyclonus had always been a light sleeper. 

"Can I sleep with you?" Tailgate asked, uncertain why he was hesitating. He knew the answer. Cyclonus onlined his optics. 

"Of course," he said, frowning as he turned toward him, "Did something happen?"

"I don't know," Tailgate said, crawling up into Cyclonus's berth and wrapping himself around his partner's chest, feeling the gentle rumble of his engine against his cheek, "Maybe."

Cyclonus put an arm around his back, pulling him in flush against his body. "Did you want to talk about it?" 

"I'm not sure," Tailgate said, shuttering his optics and focusing on the warm feel of plating against his own, "Maybe." 

Cyclonus shifted his grip. "You do not have to if you do not wish to," he paused, "But I would like to share your burden, whatever it may be." 

Tailgate was quiet for a moment, thinking, and glanced up at the clock on the bedside table Whirl had given Cyclonus what felt like ages ago now, even if it wasn't. "Did you ever have servants?" 

"I had many military subordinates."

"No, I mean, before that. Or- maybe at the same time, I don't know," Tailgate stared at the clock, watching the number flicker over to the next as the minute changed, and checked it against his internal chronometer. It was wildly off. "Did you have _slaves_?"

Cyclonus twitched beneath him, "No," he said, firmly, "Never that."

"Oh," Tailgate responded, voice soft, "Good."

"That's a rather pointed question. Why do you ask?" 

"Something Rewind said… bothered me," Tailgate's voice was no more than a murmur in the dark room, lit only by a blinking clock that told the incorrect time.

"Yes?"

"Was I good? At interface, I mean."

Cyclonus paused, before he pushed himself up to his elbows and stared down at his partner, quizzical, "What kind of question is that?"

Suddenly optics on him felt too much, and Tailgate buried his face in Cyclonus's plating, embarrassed, "Nevermind."

"No, I-" Cyclonus tenderly pried him away, leaning down to cup his faceplate in one hand, claws gentle as they drifted over transformation seams and held Tailgate's gaze steady, "I have lost my taste for unspoken feelings."

Tailgate's optics flicked away and back behind his visor, struggling to put words to thought, "Did I do it well?" 

"My love, you could not have done it poorly," Cyclonus remained confused by the question, "Are… you having regrets?"

"No! No, it's not that- I just-" he leaned his face into Cyclonus's palm, covering his hand with his own and offlining his visor, "That's all I can think. Not 'did I like it.' Just 'was I good at it?' I don't know what that means."

Tailgate did not online his visor at the sharp intake nor when he was pulled tighter, though he let himself bury his face in Cyclonus's shoulder, a spot he felt like he was made precisely to fit into, even though he could feel the tremor in his own frame.

"I understand," Cyclonus said, voice hoarse, strained, "You are alright."

"Am I?" Tailgate whispered, "Am I alright?" 

"Of course you are," Cyclonus' voice rumbled through his chassis, spark pulse set to the same steady thrum as his own, as if in sync, "I have you right here in my arms. How could anything ever be truly wrong again?" 

"You're a hopeless romantic," Tailgate mumbled, "I love you."

"I know," Cyclonus said, giving him a squeeze, "I love you, too."

"Even if I'm- suddenly really not sure how I feel about interfacing?"

"Tailgate, I would gladly hold you here like this until the last star in the sky burnt out and the universe was consumed by its own inevitable heat death. You need give me nothing more than your hand in mine for me to be happy for the rest of my life."

"That's so dramatic," Tailgate huffed nervous laughter, vents stuttering with lingering anxiety, "Thank you." 

"I mean it," Cyclonus pulled back, both hands along his jaw and forehead pressed against his own, optics locked and full of love, "if you should want to abstain from interface while you reexamine your feelings, I will happily wait until the day comes you're fully comfortable doing so- and should that day never come, I will still want for nothing, because I already have all I need."

Tailgate could feel his visor brightening, threatening to spill out optical lubricant down his mask, and he leaned up for a kiss, passing a dull jolt of static where they connected. "I know." 


End file.
